


The Mystery Bard

by redalader



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, Found Family, Geralt is a dad, M/M, Pining, ciri thinks that jaskier guy sounds pretty cool, dads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23689027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redalader/pseuds/redalader
Summary: The first time Ciri ever heard the name Jaskier....Set after the Mountain, in which Ciri wonders who this bard is that made such an impact on Geralt
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 22
Kudos: 107





	The Mystery Bard

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the Show and some Wikipediaing but please don't hate me if I don't get it 100%

The first time she had heard of Jaskier, she and Geralt had been travelling North for a week and the smell was getting to be a bit too much for both of them. He had deliberately steered them clear of towns as much as possible, claiming it would protect her identity, but she expected there was something more to it. 

They slept on mats in the woods, building shelters from branches and leaves, until eventually they reached a town that Geralt approved of. It was too far away from Cintra for anyone to recognise her, and the White Wolf had explained that no one came here. No one important anyway.

So they had found themselves in the back of a dusty tavern, waiting until the Inn across the street opened. They were getting a room. There was no doubt in Geralt’s voice, but until then it was filthy tasting ale that Geralt had allowed her to have since it seemed to smell better than the water, and a sticky wooden bench. 

After a while she noticed him stiffen, his eyes focused on something in front of them, his gaze not quite meeting anything she could see.

“What is it?”

“Shh!” 

He had never snapped at her unless he sensed some danger, his Witcher senses hearing what she couldn’t, so she was quiet. She didn’t say another word, but made to reach for the knife he had given her that was currently stashed in her boot. 

Then she began to hear something too. Only it wasn’t a rustling, or some unidentifiable snarl, it was music. A tune played by some bard who was hidden on the other side of the bar. It wasn’t a song she had heard before but most of the crowd appeared to know it well as they were half-singing, half-shouting along.

“Jaskier.” Geralt said the name in such a way she knew whatever person it belonged to was important. More than important, actually. It was so different to how she had heard him say any other name. At first she thought it might have been surprise, but then Geralt was standing and moving towards the crowds, as if caught in a trance. Maybe Jaskier was some Siren he had fought, like those stories her grandfather told her of sailors at sea.

As she followed, the lyrics became a little clearer, still half-yelled by patrons who were definitely far too drunk for this time in the afternoon. Having never known Geralt to so much as tap his foot along to a song she was surprised at his rush to get the front. Clearly this Jaskier couldn’t wait until the song was over.

“That's my epic tale  
Our champion prevailed…”

The smell of this place was truly horrid, and it was all she could think of as she pushed past men far bigger than her and tried to squeeze her way through gaps in the crowd to keep up with Geralt. 

“Defeated the villain  
Now pour him some ale”

People had begun to notice the Witcher and had stopped for him, taking steps back, their faces filled with dread. She smirked at that, it must be such a superpower to have crowds part for you, and continued pressing forward. Everyone else might have stopped singing but the bard kept going. 

“Toss a coin to your Witcher…”

The sight of Geralt frozen to the spot told her she had made it. Rushing to his side she beamed up at him but found an expression on his face she couldn’t quite read. She moved her eyes to see what he was staring at, just an ordinary bard, in his late fifties, wearing a hat to cover up his baldness. Yet Geralt was staring at him as if the man had wronged him in some way. Maybe he was embarrassed since the song seemed to be about witchers, but she hadn’t known him to be bashful.

The bard didn’t seem to recognise Geralt at all, shooting him a smile as he continued singing.

“Is that him? Is that Jaskier?” She asked, although she knew by the way Geralt stared, defeated, that it wasn’t.

“Doesn’t matter,” was all he said and they left the tavern without another word.

The second time she had heard him say Jaskier was later that night. She had tried asking about him, but he was even less talkative about the bard than he was about Yennefer. Although she had established that Jaskier was in fact a bard, probably a friend, and someone Geralt had been separated from. But that was all the information she was going to get. 

Their room was just big enough for two beds and a chest of drawers in between. Geralt took the bed nearest the door, his swords slung against the bedpost, while she sat up by the window. The curtains were frayed at the edges and covered in holes, but she was thankful for the light it gave her. She wasn’t sleeping these days so as soon as Geralt was asleep she sat up and began to write a little. Nothing of note, but she had heard keeping a journal could help organise thoughts, and she had so many these days. Besides, it sometimes helped her sleep. 

She had only started to write when Geralt gave a snore so loud she half jumped with fright. At first she thought it was deliberate, that he had been awake all this time and was trying to scare her, but she watched him lie there completely still, his chest barely moving the way that was somehow normal for witchers. He was definitely asleep. Although, she wouldn’t risk it and decided to curl into bed and at least make an attempt at sleeping.

That was when she heard it.

“Jaskier.” Soft. His gruff voice somehow ended up sounding soft. 

“Who is he?” Ciri whispered, wondering if the unconscious Geralt would be more talkative.

“Jaskier.” He let out a long exhale, something that resembled relief. 

Then there was silence. Not another breathe or snore, only the sound of rain pattering outside the window as she wondered how some bard could have such an effect on the White Wolf.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I wish I had more time to spend on this, but I really just want to get a Vibe about what people think? I know the character is a Bit Off but I'm working on it
> 
> Please make your criticism constructive though and please be kind I'm very fragile at the minute, my boyfriend just yelled at me ontop of a mountain and I had to climb all the way down on my own :( 
> 
> Seriously though be nice please I'm scared to share this ahhhh


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